


a pound of flesh

by prittyspeshul



Category: InuYasha - A Feudal Fairy Tale
Genre: 500 words ish, Emotional Turmoil, F/M, Mildly Dubious Consent, body switching, extremely minor character study, nothing is specified ever
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-05
Updated: 2016-06-05
Packaged: 2018-07-12 10:04:21
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 501
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7098310
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/prittyspeshul/pseuds/prittyspeshul
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In which the body is not the man, and Kagome attempts to decide whether the body is enough.</p><p>(No, no, it's never enough.)</p>
            </blockquote>





	a pound of flesh

It didn’t matter how it happened.

Let’s say demonic intervention.

But there they stood, Inuyasha and Koga--Koga and Inuyasha? Hanyou first, then wolf, but the wrong expressions on their faces, because now wolf was half and half was wolf, and half (wolf) was looking at her as though she were something precious and wolf (half) was looking at her as though this entire mess was her fault.

(It may have been her fault, or it may not, but at least it would be easy to keep their identities straight).

 

 

 

Golden eyes, liquid fire in the flickering light, watching her every move, offering help, berating the “weakness” of this body—brown eyes, splintered and vicious like broken glass, complaining loudly about the stench of wolf and the stupidity of miko, until she fled, tears welling in her eyes because this wasn’t _right_.

(A monk’s eyes saw the quiet reverence in each movement in new forms, the grudging respect lighting in the back of gold and brown only to be quashed as one followed and one quailed, as he always did.)

 

 

 

“Kagome,” and that was the wrong voice—the right voice, but the wrong person? This was all so confusing. She stayed put, nestled as she was against the tree, until familiar clawed hands touched her shoulders. She wanted to run, she wanted to scream, she wanted to fling herself into his arms—but not _his_ arms. She wanted to cry.

“Kagome, look at me.” Such politeness, such pleading, would not be found in the other; she found herself hating the comparison, looking into golden eyes that were right but weren’t, quite.

“I’m sorry this—magic—curse—is causing you distress. If I could undo it, I would, in a heartbeat, to get out of this useless half-breed—I’m sorry. I know—”

The voice trailed off, a clawed finger lifting her chin, sending shivers down her spine that weren’t right weren’t right weren’t right but felt so, because it was his body, wasn’t it? It only made sense. And those eyes—such emotion, brimming with it, spilling over, she would never, could never earn such from the real—

This was real.

His lips against hers, the same as ever, dry and chapped and warm, and she couldn’t help herself, pressing into that familiarity with wanton need and desperation, until the sobs rippled up and he pulled away, hands still on her shoulders.

“Kagome,” firmly, closer to right, “Kagome, I know how you feel about—him, though I do not understand why. I know I am not him. But—tonight—let me be enough. Let—this body be enough.”

Tears still dripping down her cheeks, half of her shrieked, “No, it’s not, it’s not enough,” and the other half of her, the empty half, surged forward and crushed their mouths together until it stopped feeling so wrong, until she stopped feeling anything at all.

 

 

 

In the end, the body is not the man, and the body is not enough.

But she makes do.

**Author's Note:**

> Old idea that decided I couldn't fall asleep until I wrote it right freaking now. 
> 
> Unbeta'd, unedited, just thrown up here for your enjoyment.


End file.
